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  Of All The Ways He Loves Me

  SUZANNE D. WILLIAMS

  FEEL-GOOD ROMANCE

  © 2013 Of All The Ways He Loves Me by Suzanne D. Williams

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

  Of all the ways he loves me

  In this he loves the most.

  The light in my eye. The curve of my lip.

  The touch and sweep and warm caress

  Of his hand on my face

  His taste on my tongue

  And the scent of our breath when we become one.

  CHAPTER 1

  I was sick, seriously sick, the kind of sick where half your sinuses drip incessantly and the other half are dry and stuffy. My arms ached. My legs ached, and my head was a balloon. I was also thinking of trying dreds in my hair from lack of washing it. I mean, washing took energy, something I didn’t have in a ready supply. Moreover, I’d welded myself to the tissue box and a two liter of cola. The soda had kept me alive, I do believe, along with chicken noodle soup in a can.

  So it was with complete horror that I contemplated my mom’s statement.

  “Get dressed, sweetheart, we’re going to the church picnic.”

  The church picnic? Were her eyes open? Was she actually looking at me?

  “I am not going to the church picnic,” I said flatly.

  This earned me the mom look, the one that says I’m skating on the edge.

  “Look at me,” I said. “I’m a disas … disas …” I ended the word with a tremendous sneeze – totally unplanned – and thought that’d convince her.

  It didn’t.

  “You just need a nice bath and fresh clothes, and you’ll be as good as new,” she chirped.

  Yeah, because fresh clothes would help. I admit my jammies were smelling kinda funky. I’d been in them for two days. But I strongly suspected my head would be the same no matter what I wore. This mess, whatever it was, was determined to take me out.

  “I’ll have to sit there and pretend I care,” I whined. And listen to twelve people tell me how bad I look, something I knew already; how their cousin had something like that recently, and it was so much worse than what I was dealing with; and could they please pray for me?

  Okay, so prayer wasn’t such a bad idea as long as it didn’t require me to do anything. Again, no energy.

  “Obey your mother.”

  Dad was now getting into the mix, and that was bad because it gave me no choice. He had his arms crossed, too, a sure sign I should toe the line.

  I didn’t dare argue, so I slunk off to my room and contemplated a long, excruciating morning. This was the end, completely the end. One look at me and the entire youth group would run screaming. Parents would yank away their kids. Grandmothers would chase me around with disinfectant.

  I fell back on the bed prone, my arms splayed out on either side, and said the first thing that came into my brain. “Dear, God. Why?”

  ***

  “You look awful,” Penny said.

  I didn’t bother to turn my head and find her. I was too drained.

  “Seriously, awful.” She reiterated it and found my gaze for herself by leaning overhead. Her straight brown locks formed a curtain around her face, making it rounder than it really was.

  “I feel so much better about myself now. Thanks,” I said.

  She smiled. “You’re welcome.” She disappeared from view and coming around the fold-out table, seated herself beside me.

  I made no effort to turn my head.

  “Your parents made you come, huh?” she asked from her new position by my left ear.

  “What day is it?” I asked.

  She laughed. “That bad?”

  “Awful. Just dig a hole and bury me.”

  “I’ll help,” said a new voice. Deep. Male. Paterson Radovich.

  I wanted to weep or cheer. One. I couldn’t decide. First, because he’d offered to dig the hole. Second, because burial seemed like a relief right then.

  “I’ll even plant flowers at your headstone,” he said.

  “That’s so sweet of you,” I replied. “The only thing that’d make it better was if you’d propose first.”

  He chuckled. “I might, so long as I get your music collection once you’re gone.”

  “Done.”

  “Nadia Asbury, you look terrible.” Friend number three had arrived.

  “Wow,” I said. “I didn’t know. Thanks, Jenn.”

  “Paterson just proposed,” Penny inserted.

  Jenn plopped down in a chair opposite me and propped her chin in her hands. “To Nadia? Awesome. When’s the wedding?”

  “Next summer,” I replied. “Or one week from now, depending on if I die or not.”

  “Can I be best maid?” Jenn asked.

  I grunted. I was through talking.

  “Oh, boy,” Paterson said. “A woman that won’t speak. I’m set for life.”

  “At least, until she passes on, then she’ll haunt you,” Penny said.

  “And I’ll pine away.”

  This was really going too far, this whole think-about-my-death thing, so I raised my hand. “If I could get a word in edgewise,” I mumbled.

  They all looked at me, expectant.

  “Would one of you wake me up when this is over and don’t let me drool in the meantime?”

  This brought laughter all around and the attention of Evelyn Fitzpatrick. Evelyn Fitzpatrick was what my mom called a case, that being a generalization of any number of frustrating people or situations. Pencil thin with razor straight blonde hair, she was pretty in a sort of blade-of-grass kinda way, but it wasn’t her looks that made her a case. It was her attitude. In short, Evelyn was a snob.

  She was also in love with Paterson, who couldn’t stand her. He’d told me this on a number of occasions, and the fact I knew it and had shared it with both Penny and Jenn made me her target number one. Not that there was much she could do to me. I outweighed her and had a mean right cross.

  “Gee, Nadia, you look terrible.”

  This statement coming from the others had been cute, funny, and endearing, but coming from Evelyn it was spiteful. I glared at her and wiped my runny nose with the back of my hand. I then extended it.

  “Good to see you, Evie.” I stretched for her fingers, and she squealed and withdrew.

  Penny, Jenn, and Paterson were chuckling behind me.

  “Don’t touch me. You’re sick,” she said.

  “You’ve gotten so smart. I’m impressed.”

  She snarled at me, her lip curled. “You’re never funny. Hard as you try.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder, and I had this moment where Evelyn fit all the snotty-girl TV sitcom molds.

  She spotted Paterson and her face changed; she crossed her arms behind her back and sort of swayed. “Hi, Paterson.”

  Penny poked her head into the scene. “You can’t talk to him. He’s engaged to Nadia.”

  “Engaged?” Her voice raised and her eyes spun wide.

  “Yep, as of five minutes ago,” Jenn said.

  Evelyn stared at the all of us then narrowed her eyes. “You’re not engaged. That’s a joke, and again, not funny.”

  Then Paterson spoke and his words sent me for a spin. “Bug off, Evelyn. Nadia and I are an item.”

  I twisted my neck as far backwards as I could, barely catching his eye with the corner of my left one, and found him smil
ing at me.

  Paterson and I went way back to fourth grade. He was the annoying boy seated behind me who kept looking over my shoulder for the test answers, the one who then sat beside me at lunch and on the playground, saying weird random stuff like, “Chicken wing,” for no reason at all. Of course, that was in fourth grade, and we were seniors this next year, so we’d worked through a lot of that childishness and become fast friends.

  But that was all – friends. I’d never considered dating him, and he’d never asked to date me, so us being an item was a surprise. However, I wasn’t about to say so in front of Evelyn.

  “Since when?” she asked. I could see the pulse racing in her throat. She believed it.

  “Since a while now,” he replied. “We’re together all the time or hadn’t you noticed?”

  That was true. We were together a lot. He came over all the time, had dinner with us, and he and I would go places. But exactly like we’d always done.

  Evelyn didn’t say anything, but her wheels were spinning. “I think you’re funning with me,” she said. “You’re trying to make me feel stupid.”

  “No funning,” he said. “If she wasn’t so sick, I’d prove it.”

  I was really interested in this conversation now. Exactly how would he do that?

  “You would?” she asked.

  “Sure. Why wouldn’t I? Look, give us two weeks, and I’ll do it then.”

  Do what? I was screaming the question in my head. I knew Paterson as well as I knew myself. I knew he hated caramel, but liked whipped topping. I knew he ate peanut butter cups in a circle and thought peppermints tasted good melted in his coffee. I could tell you what size clothing he wore, about the infection he had in his right toe after he went swimming in the lake, and exactly how many chicken pox he’d had when he was ten. But I honestly had no idea where he was going with this conversation.

  But apparently Evelyn did because she looked from him to me, one hand on her hip, and nodded. “You swear, and you have to do it in public in front of everyone.”

  He held up his right hand. “I swear by God and the hair on my mother’s head.”

  She gave a snort. “Very well. But I warn you, if it isn’t good …”

  “Oh, it will be, so relax. Now, if you don’t mind, I think your mom’s calling.”

  She was, in fact, calling. I’d heard a minute ago; she had this pitchy voice, like a bird on helium.

  Evelyn glanced over her shoulder then walked away, and I waited. Waited and waited for her to be far enough off. Then I whirled on him.

  “What was all that? We’re an item now? Exactly what are you going to do?”

  He grinned at me, this silly, boyish grin that was so Paterson, and leaned onto his elbows propped on his knees. “You mean, you don’t know?”

  But obviously I didn’t. He knew that, and he was enjoying this. I looked past him at Penny and Jenn. Penny was sweating bullets. I’d never seen her so disturbed, and Jenn … Jenn was about to come unglued she was so excited.

  “Somebody tell me!” I screamed. I shouldn’t have screamed because my throat scrape raw and I fell to coughing. It took me ten minutes and a can of soda to recover. Then tissue in hand, my breath half held, I refocused blurry eyes on his face.

  And he straightened, tilting his head to the left. “It’s very simple. In two weeks, I’m going to kiss you.”

  ***

  “Kiss me? You can’t kiss me,” Nadia said, her face white. Well, whiter than it was today since she was so sick.

  “Why can’t I?” he asked. He’d actually never considered kissing her, but now that he had an opportunity, why not?

  “Because … because we’re friends.”

  “We should be enemies?”

  Nadia was so uptight at times, doing the same thing at the same time on the same day in the same manner that she failed to see what was obvious in front of her.

  “Well, no,” she said.

  “And I am a boy and you are a girl, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  Paterson waved his hands wide, “Then I’ll kiss you.”

  “But … we don’t love each other.”

  “Who says we won’t by then?” He was fully aware he was pushing his luck now, but the thought of having feelings for Nadia was interesting.

  He’d never dated anyone seriously, yet it seemed like she’d be his first choice. She had all the qualities he’d seek looks-wise, and she already filled the role personality-wise – picking up after him when she came over, locating things he’d lost, reminding him to do his assignments. Girl stuff. What if they fell in love? Wouldn’t that make it better?

  “Who says …” She repeated his works, opening and closing her mouth a bit like a fish out of water, then shaking her head seemingly to clear it. “We can’t manufacture feelings.”

  “Why not?” he asked.

  “Why not?” Her face was flushed now, her cheeks pink.

  There were a number of things that pushed Nadia’s buttons, and one of the biggest was determination. Anytime he wouldn’t let go of a subject, she became red-faced and confused. Though her confusion right now could be as much a result of her illness as anything else.

  “Let’s go out on a date,” he said

  “A date?”

  “Yeah, an official date. We’re supposed to be dating anyhow, since that’s what I told Evelyn, so how about next Friday? I’ll take you to Frizelli’s.”

  She loved Frizelli’s, especially the garlic bread sticks. He’d once seen her eat a dozen in one sitting.

  “I’ll even let you get the shrimp pasta stuff you like.”

  “And the Tiramisu?” she asked.

  “And the Tiramisu.”

  “This date sounds more like a bribe,” Penny said.

  Paterson flicked her a glance. He’d been fully aware she and Jenn were sucking all this entertainment up, but this was the first she’d commented.

  “We have to start somewhere,” Paterson replied, “and where food is concerned, Nadia can always be bought.” That Nadia was listening didn’t bother him at all. Right now, she looked past caring.

  “I can be bought,” she said, proving his thoughts. She’d laid her cheek to the table top and splayed to her hands on either side as if completely sapped.

  “So you gonna go out with him or not?” Penny asked her, a half-smile on her face.

  Nadia glanced his way without lifting her head. “Sure. Can’t see as how it’ll feel like a date though. We’ve been to Frizelli’s together before.”

  Ah, but he had this part all thought out. “Not alone,” he said. “Not dressed up, and not at the corner booth.”

  “The corner booth? We can’t sit at the corner booth. That means … means …”

  And he offered her a grin. “That means we’re on a date. I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something nice and do that twisty thing with your hair.” He loved the twisty thing because he could look at her neck. She had such a nice neck.

  She blinked twice, whether in disbelief or agony he couldn’t tell. Then she groaned. Agony. Definitely agony.

  “Peaches?” she said.

  “Mmm?”

  She stretched out her arm, laying fiery fingers on his hand. “Since we’re falling in love now, you think you could dip me a plate?”

  Paterson laughed. Even in her lowest state, Nadia would eat. “Sure, Baby,” he said. “I know what you like.”

  ***

  As close as Paterson and I were, our parents were closer. My dad golfed with his dad. Our moms went shopping together and had lunch. This had contributed to our friendship as much as attending the same church and school. He also lived kind of diagonal and behind us, which meant I could be found at his house as often as he was at mine.

  So neither set of our folks batted an eye when he asked to take me home.

  I was beat. Whatever monster resided in my fevered brain had gradually gnawed away at it until come two o’clock I could no longer form coherent thoughts past the words bed and sleep.
Neither could I walk all the way to his car. He solved this by sweeping me off my feet and toting me across the grass.

  “Gallant,” I mumbled, my head tucked to his chest.

  “You’re welcome, my fair maiden,” he replied.

  I wasn’t a fool. Maybe the idea of dating Paterson had never occurred to me, but him has a handsome male had. He had dark hair and hazel eyes and right then was firm and solid and strong, all appealing things to a female about to collapse.

  He dumped me in the passenger seat and buckled my seat belt before moving around to the driver’s side. The rumble of the engine along with the cooling breeze of the air conditioner sent me off to sleep. I awoke to his hand on my forehead and his eyes about six inches away.

  “Hey,” he said.

  I could see he was worried. He had those crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes.

  “Where’s your house key?”

  Paterson was an A, number one first class guy. He followed all the unspoken rules of male behavior. How he’d learned them I attributed to a combination of his mom’s strict discipline and hanging around me, but those thoughts aside, he knew where my key was and simply wasn’t going to dig around to get it because no proper male would be caught with his hand in a girl’s purse.

  I snatched the key with the pinky of my right hand and slung it his way, then passed out, barely conscious of once again settling against his chest or the rocking motion of his footsteps. At some point between the car and the living room couch, I fell asleep.

  My own snore woke me up. I gave a groan. “I hate that,” I said. “I get to sleep and my own noises wake me up.”

  “Plus, it’s so sexy.”

  I cracked an eye to see Paterson slouched in the armchair at my feet and then laid my weary hand over the damp washrag on my head. He must have retrieved it.

  “How long was I out?” I asked.

  He waved the palm of his hand upward. “Ten minutes maybe. You want some pills?”

  I nodded. “You’re already such a good spouse.”

  He laughed at that and pushed to his feet. I watched him disappear from the room and reemerge with a glass of water and bottle of fever medication in his hand. “Two or twelve?” he asked, dumping a pair of pills in his palm.